Tangents
by WOATCAPIITON
Summary: Why is it that you can never stay on topic? BB.
1. Chapter 1

_This popped out while I was trying to write a new chapter, it's nothing deep, just a cute, pointless piece of hoo-haa._

_Thanks to Sam for giving it a once - over._

_Enjoy._

* * *

- Tangents -

"Can I ask you a question?"

Booth smirked. "You just did."

Rolling her eyes, Temperance tried again. "Fine. Can I ask you 3 questions?"

"Great answer, Bones."

"I have a name besides Bones, Booth. Perhaps you could use it." She snapped.

Booth glanced sideways at her. "Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

"I don't know what that means. And how does the side you wake up on determine the mood you'll be in? I've never heard of-"

Booth raised his hand to hush her. "It's a saying, Bones. Don't kill yourself with the analysing."

Brennan huffed, folding her arms under her breasts. "Do you purposely go out of your way to annoy me or does it come naturally?"

He gave her his charm smile. "I think it's more like you bring out the best in me."

She glared at him. He dropped the charm smile.

"You had a question?" He said quickly.

"You know I like two sugars." She said simply.

"What?" Booth asked, confusion written across his face.

"In my coffee." She answered slowly.

"Oh."

"So?"

He brought his eyebrows together thoughtfully. "I don't know."

"That's not an answer, Booth."

"Well," He started, "We are around each other a lot. It's only natural for us to pick up on each other's…"

"Habits?"

"That's not the word."

"What is the word then?"

"If I knew, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"We'd be having this conversation regardless."

"Bones, must you comment on everything?"

A sign on the side of the road passed in a blur.

"No."

"You do anyway."

"Booth?"

An exasperated sigh. "What?"

"You missed the turn off."

Booth swore. "You're distracting me!"

"I am not!" She said indignant, raising her chin. "I can't help it if you can't multi-task."

Booth mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?" She teased, a slow smile spreading over her face.

"Let's have silence for the rest of the ride, hmmm?" He said, slipping on his black shades to protect his eyes from the blinding sun. "Nice quiet. No talking."

She squirmed in her seat. She adjusted her seatbelt. She flicked the switch and the window inched down.

"Bones!"

She snapped her head up, her baby blues wide and innocent. "Yes?"

"Silence." He whispered for emphasis.

She rolled her eyes. The car was hot. She fiddled with the air con until the cool breeze blew at her face. It wasn't cold enough. She reached out to turn it down further.

"Hey!" She exclaimed when Booth slapped her hand away.

"Stop fiddling." He scolded her.

"I'm not fiddling."

He eyed her but said nothing. A minute of silence passed.

Booth exhaled. "That's more like it."

"The-"

"La-la-la-la." He said, quieting her immediately. She looked at him, her mouth agape.

"You're being chil-"

"Can't you be-"

"Quiet?"

"Yes." Booth breathed out slowly. "Please."

"Fine." She leant back into her seat.

"Good girl." He said, changing lanes. She shot him a glare, of which he missed.

She tapped her fingers on the arm rest. He rolled his neck slowly. His eyes warned her.

She halted her fingers. "Sorry."

He returned his attention to the road. He counted. One minute. Two minutes. Three and four. He flicked his gaze over at her. She sat, her head turned to watch the passing scenery. A small pout graced her lips.

"You're good at this." He said, giving in.

She raised a tapered eyebrow. "At what?"

"Getting what you want."

She flashed a broad smile. "I know."

"Never knew you were so manipulative, Bones."

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

"There is." He agreed.

"But you know how I take my coffee." She said.

He smiled at her. "Two sugars."

"And a little milk." Temperance added.

Booth turned the SUV into the Jeffersonian car park.

"Hey, Bones?"

"Yeah?"

Booth shook his head, changing his mind. "It doesn't matter."

"Okay." She unbuckled and got out. "See you tomorrow?"

"Right."

She was about to slam the door shut when she stopped and said: "One sugar, no milk."

He looked pleased. "You know."

She grinned. "Habits."

* * *

_You likie what I writie?  
Driver, move-that-bus! _

_Or..._

_Push that button!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Never intended to write another part to this! I swear, I was writing a whole other fic and this just bumped his way to the front of my mind...the b-stard. _

_Hope you enjoy, anyway!_

* * *

Here we go again...

"Why do you call me Bones?"

"Isn't that obvious?"

"The name is but not _why _you say it."

"I like it."

She sat thinking. "I don't like it."

He smirked. "I know."

"But you say it anyway."

"I know."

"I know you know. Stop saying 'I know'."

Booth smirked. "Okay."

"Booth!"

"What? I didn't say 'I know,' you know."

She huffed, blowing loose strands of hair into the air.

"You know," Booth began, teasing, "You're cute when you're all flustered."

She narrowed her eyes. "I am not cute."

He turned his body towards her, their knees almost touching. "I beg to differ."

"Beg all you like." It was out of her mouth before her brain had time to tackle it down. "That came out wrong." She spluttered, trying to get a hold of that hot blush creeping up her neck.

Booth tapped the bar for the check. "Sure, Bones."

She let out a long stream of air, watching the frustration flow out on the torrents of air. "I mean it."

"What? You want me to beg? Now I don't know, Bones-"

She left her stool with an abrupt jump. "You're incredible." She said, disbelieving.

Booth threw down some notes and jogged to catch up to his partner. "I am, aren't I?"

They reached the passenger side of his SUV. "Oh, come on, Bones. You aren't really mad, are you?"

She poked him in the chest. "Don't call me Bones!"

He stepped closer, his broad chest forcing her finger to bend. "Or what?"

"I'll kick your ass. That's what's what."

He moved closer still, their faces mere inches apart. "What's what what?"

She flattened her hand against his right pectoral and pushed him away.

"You're in my personal space, move back please."

Booth chuckled, the deep timbre of it moving through the skin of her hand. Her flesh tingled. "Oh am I?" He lifted his hands and rested them against the side of the vehicle, subsequently trapping her body within the area his arms made either side of her.

Tempe shuffled her feet until her back hit the hard planes of the door. She squinted at him, the glare of the sun in her blue eyes. "Your health is at risk right now."

Booth let one arm drop down to his side. "Threat duly noted, Bones."

"Wise decision."

"I'm a wise man."

"Doesn't that come with age?"

"I'm aged…no, wait, scratch that."

"Scratch what?"

"My age."

Tempe scrunched her brows together. "I don't understand what we're talking about."

Booth grinned. "Neither do I, Bones."

She decided to change the subject. "You believe in fairness, fifty-fifty, all that, right?"

He lowered his voice an octave. "I'm FBI, course I do, little lady."

_Oh, I would just love to smack that haughty expression right off his handsome face. _Tempe fumed. She ignored it though; she had bigger fish to fry.

"Well," She started in the sweetest voice she could muster, "if you get to appoint me a nickname, isn't it fair that I get to too?"

Booth brushed his hand over his day-old stubble. "Back to that again, huh?"

"Can I call you Boothy?"

Booth's eyes widened. "Over my dead body."

Tempe looked thoughtful. "That could be arranged."

Booth flexed his arms, the impressive lines of his shapely biceps showing through his shirt. "How about Guns?"

Tempe wrinkled her nose. "It's almost as bad as 'Bones.'"

Booth feigned hurt. "Bones is a beautiful name, Bones."

"There's always 'God.'" Tempe said, jokingly.

"As fitting as it is, I think it's already taken."

"Oh, what a shame." Tempe answered, her eyes rolling upwards.

"You know-"

"You've really got to stop saying 'you know.'" Tempe interrupted him.

"-we could stick with Booth."

"But that means we have to stick with Bones, too."

"Isn't that how it's supposed to be?"

She smiled. "What, Booth and Bones?"

"Sounds a whole lot better that than 'Guns and Bones.'"

"Yeah," Tempe agreed, "a whole lot better."

* * *

_It's the hurricane, it's the hurricane!_


	3. Chapter 3

_O, suddenly this has turned into a multi-chap fickie. O, for the wings of a dove. _

_(yawns) T'is 3am. So very, very tired. BUT, I have been procrastinaing long enough. For Pete's sake. I'm off my arse, and here you go, brand new chapter!_

* * *

Round Three-Hundred-and-I've Lost Count…

"Bones?" Booth called hesitantly from the doorway of Brennan's apartment. Hearing nothing but eerie silence, he proceeded cautiously into the kitchen, relaxing and simultaneously cocking his head curiously upon seeing his partner. "Why are you on the floor?"

"Booth? What are you doing here?" She asked in surprise. She leant back on her haunches wiping her damp brow with the back of her sleeve.

Booth peered at her closely. "You left this" he produced her Blackberry from his back pocket, "in my car."

Reaching up and taking it, she mumbled: "Thanks."

"What's wrong with your voice? And why are you on the floor?" Booth asked again, raising his eyebrows.

Brennan stood and produced a sound closely resembling a hiss. "Nothing is wrong with my voice." She croaked, contradicting her vehement reply. As if sensing the opportune moment, her face screwed up and she released a noisy sneeze that shook her whole body.

Bemused at her stubborn denial, Booth said: "Bones, you're sick. And did you just _hiss _at me?"

Brennan swiped at her nose in irritation. "No. Maybe. How did you get in anyway?"

"You left the door unlocked."

"So you forgot to knock?" She remarked dryly.

"I did knock." Pause. "Get dressed in the dark?" He teased with a smile, nodding at her socks.

Looking down, Brennan noted with horror that her socks were unmistakenly miss-matched. On her left foot, vibrant blue dolphins suspended in mid-jump leaped from a white background, while the sock on her right foot sported pink and red love hearts. Brennan looked up at him, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment. "Um-"

Booth grinned and shoved his hands down his front pockets, rocking back on his heels. "Why were you on the floor?" He persisted.

"What?"

"The floor. Do you have any chicken soup?"

Eyes glazing over and her focus briefly wandering, she turned to him in confusion. "The stain won't go!"

Booth furrowed his brow. "What stain?"

Brennan shifted sideways, exposing a small smudge on her hardwood floor. She pointed at it, and said almost hysterically, obviously at the end of her tether, "What _is_ it?!"

Glancing at her furtively, Booth crouched down in front of the stain and narrowed his eyes. "Cute dolphins" He jeered playfully.

"What?"

He picked at the stain with his fingernail, at once identifying the "stain" as a sticker. "Your sock." Adding insult to injury, he added, "Singular."

"Oh, shut it." She smacked his shoulder with vapid ardor. "What _is _it?"

"It's a mystery." He lied, returning to full height. _Let her mull over it some more._ "Chicken soup?"

Sniffing and glaring disdainfully at the perplexing stain, she asked: "What about it?"

"Do you have any?" Booth huffed impatiently. "You're sick."

"I'm fine."

"Bones-"

"Booth." She mimicked his tone.

"Bones, for God's sake!"

"Blasphemy." She muttered quietly, her eyes huge and round.

"Yeah…well, at least my socks _match_."

She shot him a sour look and further confused the situation by saying: "I have none."

Exasperated, Booth shook his head. "What?"

"Chicken soup."

"Will you stay on one topic, _please!_" Booth snapped, raising his voice.

Brennan clicked her tongue at him. "Touchy much?"

"Oh, I'm getting there." Booth confirmed.

"Doesn't matter if I don't have any soup, because I'm not sick." She proclaimed fervently.

"Yes. You are."

Brennan rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

"And," Booth continued, sensing her start to crack, "You aren't in the lab."

"And?"

"It's Saturday. You're always at the lab on Saturday."

"It's not mandatory to work on weekends. I don't _have _to. Maybe I decided I wanted to relax at home." She corrected him tensely.

Booth crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Uh-huh. Because you feel lousy and _sick_."

Brennan pursed her lips. "I'm fine."

"Stop sniffing then."

"I have hay fever."

"During Winter?"

She shuffled her feet in discomfort. "Yes." _Dammit._

"Right..."

Brennan stared wearily at the stain. "It _really _bugs me!" She puled miserably.

"Bones?"

Her shoulders drooped noticeably. "What?" She asked, her reply nothing but an effete mumble.

"I can go out and get some."

"Soup?"

"Yeah."

Brennan smiled demurely at him. "Good, 'cause I think I'm sick."

Booth closed his eyes and counted to ten.

* * *

_You know, I wrote this and even I couldn't keep up with the plethora of tangents that were shooting out from every angle. O, win. At life. Humm._


	4. Chapter 4

_Yep. Here's another one for ya'll. Hee. 'Ya'll.' That sounds so ridiculous coming from a New Zealander. I don't think I'll ever say that again. Not ever._

_Thanks to my super hot beta-face, with her cool little editing lables and diagrams that make me laugh and sometimes, sometimes, make me purposefully make mistakes just to see them. They're that cool. _

_And to my darling Seralis for her silly, albeit helpful ideas. Go do your laundry. Kay? Kay._

_**NEOSPORIN® is a brand and product of Johnson & Johnson Consumer Products Company Division of Johnson & Johnson Consumer Companies, Inc.**_

**_(Opposite Day!) I OWN BONES. And: I PWN YOUR LYFEH._**

* * *

God Help Me…

Booth shifted his weight to his other leg and leant against the doorframe. He tapped the glass of his watch, and then proceeded to let out an audible sigh.

Tempe's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing at his impatience. "Oh for God's sake Booth, we have time!"

He raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't bring God into this, Bones."

She rolled her eyes. "Or what?"

Booth walked into her office, wiggling his fingers at her in a spooky gesture. "God works in mysterious ways; who knows what wrath we shall incur, lest we take his name in vain."

Tempe dropped the pile of folders she was holding onto the already over-flowing desk. "I don't believe in God. I have immunity. The wrath is all yours."

He shook his head. "Doesn't work like that."

Hands on her hips, Tempe answered: "How_ does_ it work?"

Booth took a step forward, placing his hands on her desk and leaning over towards her. "Hey, Bones?"

"What?"

"I think you missed the paper." He lifted his hand and stroked one finger along her jaw line.

Tempe flinched in surprise, her brows brought together in confusion. "I don't know what that means. And you didn't explain the God thing."

"You have pen on your face." Booth explained, indicating the marked area by lightly rubbing her skin.

"I do?"

Booth smirked and dropped his hand. "God's wrath…" He muttered cheekily, leaving Tempe's office.

Grabbing her blue lab coat, Tempe yelled, "Wait, Booth!"

Booth stopped and turned around just in time to see his partner fly from her office, lab coat billowing behind her. Skirt ruffling from her brisk movements, Temperance made her way over to him, not noticing the large black equipment case placed directly in her path.

Booth could see exactly what was going to happen. "Bones, look-"

Too late. Tempe knocked into the knee-high case with a loud bang that reverberated off the Jeffersonian walls, and stumbled awkwardly for a few feet before tripping up completely and landing hard on the solid floor.

"-out." Booth finished, rushing forth to his partner slumped ungracefully a few metres away, leaning up on her elbows.

Several pairs of eyes turned to look at the commotion, and Temperance glared at the incriminating case with blush tinted cheeks.

"Bones, are you okay?" Booth asked in concern, kneeling down beside her.

"I'm fine." She brushed him off, flustered and embarrassed by the attention her trip had conjured. The side of her head hurt from where she had landed, and her knee was stinging from where she made contact with the rough material of the outer case.

Booth pursed his lips and pried her hands away from her leg. "Let me see." She removed her hands, and he examined her scraped knee. He grimaced at the angry red scratch that marred her pale skin. "Y'ouch."

Tempe shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. "It's not as bad as it looks," She lied. _Ow, ow, ow, ow._

Booth looked dubious. "Yeah, right."

"Brennan!" Angela rushed to her best friend's side with wide eyes. "I saw from the corridor-"

"Who _didn't _see?" Booth mumbled unhelpfully.

Tempe glared at him. "I'm okay, Ange."

"-practically flew through-"

"Angela!"

Angela paused and scanned her eyes down Tempe's body. "Are you hurt?"

Booth and Brennan answered simultaneously. "No."

"Yes."

"Booth, I'm – Ouch!" She slapped his hand away from her scrapped knee, biting her lip and looking disdainfully at his probing fingers.

Angela watched on in amusement, a smile curving on her lips.

He squinted at her wound in all seriousness. "You won't need stiches."

"I _know _that." She replied hastily, as Booth tugged her to her feet.

Booth ignored her protests as he directed her back into her office. "Can you grab a first-aid kit?" He shot a furtive at the artist behind him.

"Sure. Won't be a second." She said, and disappeared around the corner.

Booth dropped Tempe down on her couch, and she looked up at him in annoyance. "This is unnecessary. I _can_ walk."

"As can I."

Just as she opened her mouth to answer, Angela burst into the room carrying the large green first-aid kit, her chest heaving.

Tempe raised a tapered eyebrow. "Did you run?"

"What – no! I _jogged._"

"We weren't going anywhere." She reasoned.

"You'll be okay?" She asked, and they both nodded. Angela practically dumped the kit into Booth's lap before dashing out of the room as fast as she had entered it.

"Angela?"

"It's Wednesday!" She yelled on her way out.

Brennan's mouth formed an 'O' in understanding, and she reached for the kit in Booth's hands.

"It's Wednesday? How does that make _any _sense?" Booth asked her, pulling the kit from her reach when she leaned over to take it.

"What makes no sense?"

He made a sweeping motion with his hand. "The Wednesday thing."

Tempe blinked. "It's laundry day."

"What?"

"The day you do your wash-"

Booth interrupted her impatiently. "I know what laundry day _means_, Bones."

"Then why did you-"

"What I want to know is why it's relevant." He opened the lid to the kit and snooped around in it.

Distracted and beyond confused, Brennan asked, "Relevant to what?"

Booth pulled out a small bottle of Neosporin and found cotton swath to dab it on with. "Why she was in a hurry."

"Because she has to do her laundry." She answered slowly.

Booth hung his head briefly, before gripping her leg roughly and pulling her towards him.

"Hey!-"

"Everything you say needs to be explained, and when you explain something, _that _needs to be explained too."

"You didn't explain the God thing." She accused.

"I guess we're even then." He gave her a smirk and lifted her knee in the air so he could put a pillow beneath it.

"It isn't like I'm incapable of doing this myself." Tempe mumbled, while Booth pushed up the hem of her skirt to reveal her knee. He avoided looking at the expanse of her naked thigh while he cleaned the cut. He struggled with that.

She hissed when he touched her open wound with the anti-bacterial ointment. Booth glanced up at her with a wry grin. She narrowed her eyes at him. "This isn't funny." He said nothing, but she saw his shoulders shudder with silent laughter. "It's not."

She poked him. Hard. "Stop laughing at me."

"It was right in the middle of the room. How could you _not _see it? It was huge."

"The case?"

"Yeah." He searched through the kit again for plasters. When he found some, he felt his face nearly split from the smile he couldn't help but display.

Tempe clicked her tongue, and looked at him suspiciously. "What now?"

He held up his hand. She peered closely at the plasters and bit down on her tongue. _What did he expect? This _was_ a Museum._

"These are cool." He approved.

Tempe rolled her eyes and wiggled her leg. "This year, please."

Booth chuckled at her comment. "Where'd you learn that?"

She sat thinking, then, "I wasn't born in a tent."

He patted her leg affectionately. "We're definitely going to be late, now." Booth teased, but stopped when she looked away guiltily. "What are a few minutes, anyway?" He said carelessly, trying to shift her guilt.

"I'm guessing the prosecutor won't be pleased."

_Too bad for him, then. _Booth thought.

"Done." Booth announced dramatically, before standing up to clear the mess he'd made. Tempe looked down at her knee. She almost smiled at the green and brown Dinosaurs that decorated the plaster. Booth watched her as she examined herself. "Parker would be so jealous if he saw that."

"He likes Dinosaurs?"

"_Obsessed_. I was like that when I was a kid, too."

Brennan removed the pillow from beneath her knee, stood up and pushed her skirt back down. "So was I."

Booth stopped what he was doing and cocked his head at her. "What, no Barbies?" He jeered playfully.

She shot him a petulant look. "I hate dolls."

He grinned. "I believe you."

She sighed and gestured to her knee. "Thanks for…this."

"Sure, Bones," He pointed to the door. "We should go."

Tempe shrugged off her lab coat. "We're late?"

"_Very_ late."

When she had gathered all the necessary paperwork, they made their way to the car, Booth remarking boldly how the equipment case had been smartly pushed to the side of the wall, earning a justified smack on his arm.

"Wednesdays," Brennan started to explain while getting into the SUV, "…is laundry day because you have to wash everything before Thursdays, because Thursdays are the 'drying days', where everything has to dry before Friday, because Friday is the day you go out, and the weekend is when you need clean clothes."

Booth paused. "What?"

"Now, explain the God thing."

Booth turned the car off, turned around in his seat, and asked: "Are you concussed?"

* * *

_Baptized in the river. I've seen a vision of my life. And I want to be delivered. _

_(But I swear I'm a believer). _

_That song. In my head. Constantly. Sshhh. Just, sshhh._


End file.
